


Accidental Feline Mischief

by Tassledown



Series: Purim Gifts: Accidental Feline Mischief [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A fic of sneaky bits, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen, also mischief, animagus fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 01:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: Minerva generally tried not to let herself behave too much like a cat, but in this instance it seemed almost obligatory that she indulge.





	Accidental Feline Mischief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesometimeswarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/gifts).



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Minerva was stuck in the drawer for at least another half hour, according to her internal sense of time passing. She dozed on the paperwork, aware this was a sign her tactic was working but becoming more and more agitated by the smell in the room. 

She heard the rustling of papers and opening of a purse outside the room, then the drawer was pulled a little more open and Umbridge’s saccharine voice came out.

“Oh kitty? You need to come out now, I’m leaving my work.”

Minerva yawned ostentatiously and tucked her face further into her paws, digging claws idly into her paperwork with some relish. 

She heard the coaxing kissy noises start again, then a soft “Oh dear,” as she imaged Umbridge picturing her fighting being removed from the narrow drawer. The thought of an opportunity to dig in teeth and nails was – unlike her, Minerva sternly told herself. She did not wish to draw blood. 

It was not really her feline-brain responding that she absolutely would if Umbridge reached down for her in this moment, though. 

“Well, I can just... what was that spell...” Umbridge muttered something under her breath and finished fussing around her office. She heard her say – something – under her breath before she closed the door and Minerva waited, a little breathless herself, for one minute... two... five... before she stirred from the drawer.

The office was quiet, the kittens asleep on their plates, and the drawer she was in still ajar.

Turning back was out of the question. She was very sure something in the room was spying for her. She could see well enough as a cat and took this time now to dig through the drawer she was in, in case anything beneath her was filled out. 

That drawer was not; the one above her was locked. Minerva got up on the desk and stopped, at her ink blotter, to briefly give in to the urge to sharpen her claws. The other two drawers contained the black quill some of her students had told her about, sharp with the smell of blood; the lower drawer was open, and had papers with writing. She took her time and nosed through it: most of it was lesson plans; some where her notes on teacher assessments and student behavior. 

There, she took her time. Reading as a cat was a chore; her eyes grew sore, and her head started to pound, but this was important to do. Only when she couldn’t read anymore did she give in and close the drawer. 

Now she had to get out of the room. There was, of course, the door to try but Minerva admitted to a bit of a mischievous streak and, after all, she wanted this to look like she’d locked a cat in her office. The natural way to make that look real was to leave something for her to find in the morning. She lightly went over to the wall of plates and eyed the distance available. 

There was a side table nearby. She jumped to that, bumped the vase, paused, then carelessly turned around and bumped it again, sending it swinging onto its side, then down to crash into the floor. Her tail lashed briefly in satisfaction, and she took another look to judge the distance to the small, short shelves holding the plates.

It probably wouldn’t work. 

She leapt, almost got her footing, then had to bail back down at an angle to the floor. 

A plate teetered on the edge of the short shelf, rocked again, and rolled out of place to land sharply on one edge, and drop, apparently intact to the floor. The kitten contained within bolted for its escape route with its back arched and tail high in alarm.

Minerva went to try the door, with no such façade of finding the outside hallway interesting, and clicked it open. It swung open, quite deliberately – under the guide of a spell, she guessed – and as she trotted out, it swung curtly shut and locked with a clear ‘click’ behind her. 

She felt more than satisfied with that excursion, even knowing she couldn’t risk doing it again without very good reason. Tail high, still vibrating with excitement, Minerva trotted back to her apartment, thinking longingly of her pine and sandalwood soap.


End file.
